A Ranger's Decision
by BluSakura
Summary: A Ranger and a Paladin discuss what actions should be taken involving a Cleric and a Lich. AU Shortfic in a D&D universe.


Mytho and Fakir sat in the pews beside one another, a quiet hush descending down into the Temple of Pelor, Deity of the Sun and Goodness.

One wore the full plate and noble seal of a Paladin, his posture straight and elegant though his head was bowed in prayer. His holy sword and tower shield rested against the side of the pew in the aisle next to him. To his left, slumped over with his head in his hands, was the other, in his chain shirt and cloak of a Ranger, his bow, arrows, and longsword resting on the empty wooden seat by his side. The Paladin gleamed with blessed dignity in his engraved armor, the Ranger scuffed, ripped, and dirt-smudged beside him.

Their expressions were grim, one with an anxious frown, the other cringing into his palms.

Mytho lifted his head from prayer with a final, mumbled, "Blessed be," and turned to gaze at his companion, crouched forward and dirty, gloved fingers gripping into long, unkempt dark hair. "... She's a slippery one. It isn't your fault."

"If I had been _stronger_," Fakir insisted, looking up with a scowl, "she wouldn't have been able to pick up and leave like that."

"You were wounded badly. Enough so even her cure spells couldn't rouse you immediately. We're only human; we lack the endurance of dwarves. You needed rest." He trailed off, staring mournfully at his holy sword. "At least you were hurt trying to prevent it. I was merely distracted and allowed her to go on her own. I am a failure as a Paladin, and I must atone somehow."

Fakir chuckled wryly. "You're one to talk. Pelor hasn't taken it from you yet."

"... Ah. Yes, I suppose I'm talking to the wrong person."

It had been a year now since Fakir had fallen from grace as a Paladin and lost his holy abilities. A year since he cast away his faith in his anger and shame. A year since he ran away from the holy city of Pelorius. A year since he hid from his Ahiru, a young, fiery-haired Cleric with the purest heart and soul, the touch of a healing angel, and the manner of an silly duckling.

All he had wanted to be in his lifetime was a Paladin. A soldier that fought for the ultimate good and the ultimate law. A hero who would protect others with his smiting of evil and his steadfast justice. The moment he chose to save Ahiru instead of those other, innocent people, he had doomed himself. Pelor had taken his entire dream away from him.

He didn't even try to atone and regain his honor and graces. He knew that if he could, he would make the same decision again and again. He would never regret choosing her.

But Fakir also knew that she deserved better than a failure. He knew what she felt for Mytho, the perfect Paladin, the natural leader, his best friend. She would never have been able to see him as a friend after he forsook the lives of innocents. He didn't deserve her friendship, he didn't want her scorn, and he most certainly didn't want her pity. So, he took his leave, casting away his holy symbol and donning the cloak of a Ranger.

He traveled, working as a fur trader in some parts, taking on odd jobs of protecting caravans along the roads between cities and villages. He was a more humbled version of his old self, less severe and strict, more quiet and introspective. He'd made friends, met women, and still, he mind lingered on that silly little Cleric he left behind. So sure he was that she'd forget him and live her life peacefully, that he contented himself with the memory of her bright blue eyes and wide grin and sprinkled freckles. Fakir lived life day by day, and became a rather successful Ranger in most views.

Then, one day as he set up his booth to sell furs in one of the towns he frequented, she was there.

Her vestments were dirt-stained and weathered. Her hair was longer, pulled into a tight braid down her back. Her freckles had grown blotchy across her now tanned face. She carried a large pack with her, her back hunched over with the weight of her rolled up bedroll and attached travel gear. His jaw dropped, and his heart stopped, completely expecting her to open her mouth and rattle on about how irresponsible, how horrible, how sinful he was.

But all she did was grin through happy, streaming tears, hobbling forward and dropping her pack to throw herself into his arms. "I-I looked _everywhere_ for you!"

Fakir, at that moment, knew he had fallen in love.

And whether or not she felt the same didn't matter right now. Because this time, she had left after Pelorius was attacked by a horde of the undead, zombified creatures crawling up from the ground, affected animals dragging themselves to the living, restless and agonizing.

Fakir and Ahiru returned to Pelorius a mere three days before the wave of undead came upon them, with the intention of letting Fakir come to terms with his past. But they returned to unrest and turmoil, for one of the High Clerics, Rue, had taken flight upon news of her parents' deaths.

Ahiru had been shocked and anguished, but Mytho had been utterly _heartbroken_ upon news that Rue would go as far as becoming a Lich of Nerull, the Deity of Death and Evil, to bring her parents back to life.

Fakir, as a mere Ranger, could not turn undead and destroy them as Clerics and Paladins could. Though he fought well, he was overwhelmed, and his world went black with Ahiru's call of his name.

He awoke to the news that she had left on her own in the dead of night to save the Lich, Kraehe.

Fakir's lips were set into a thin line as he regarded Mytho with a glare. "Yeah. Wrong person."

Mytho shook his head and stood, his armor clanking with his movement. "So, what will you do?"

"I don't know," he spat in reply, "I can do nothing. I'm useless. I don't have the ability to face the hordes upon hordes of decaying corpses. You're stronger. _She's_ stronger. I'll be of no help and Ru—_Kraehe_ would have a damn good time of torturing me of all people. In front of Ahiru, no less."

Mytho's armor shifted again, and after a moment of deliberation, he spoke. "... So, what will you do?" he repeated. "The way I see it," he paused to sheath his holy sword and don his tower shield, "I can catch up to Ahiru on horseback using my celestial mount. I will turn her away and bring her back home, because as a Paladin, I will make sure she is safe, first and foremost. She will be protected here and I will face Kraehe alone." The Paladin then reached down for his waterskin and took a long drink before continuing. "... Or, you catch up to her first. And seeing as you're a Ranger, you'll probably just keep pushing her and protecting her carelessly until she reaches Kraehe, supporting her further. Then, it would be up to her to reach and save Rue. So … I suppose it all just depends on who finds Ahiru first. _If_ you decide to move."

When Fakir said and did nothing, Mytho nodded and turned away to leave, already going through plans of attack and needed supplies in his head.

"You're a Paladin," Fakir said, breaking the silence and standing. Mytho stopped at the doorway to the Temple. "That means you're all about fairness and law."

"Yes."

"... Well, using your celestial horse is rather advantageous of you." Fakir pushed passed him, armed with his bow, quiver, and sword. "By that logic, you owe me a day's head-start."

When he stepped outside, he gave a sharp whistle, and his white wolf with gleaming blue eyes trotted into his field of vision. "Lohengrin, to me." The wolf, upon being beckoned by his master, obediently moved by Fakir's side.

The Ranger, with his wolf companion, took leave of Pelorius, never seeing the Paladin's amused smirk behind him as he went.

* * *

Fakir: Human Ranger (ex-Paladin)  
Mytho: Human Paladin  
Ahiru: Human Cleric  
Rue/Kraehe: Half-Elf Cleric/Lich

_... Totally thinking about making this into a whole new story altogether, but let's wait till _Curse of the Dragon_ is all finished._


End file.
